


ice, ice, baby

by seventhstar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Sex, Dildos, Ficlet Collection, First Meetings, M/M, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-17 00:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: A collection of short fics, mostly things I wrote on tumblr, that are too short to be posted individually.





	1. canon divergence: no reconciliation after ep 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> canon divergence au: yuuri and viktor don't make up after ep 11, and this nonsense happens instead.

yuuri waits until victor falls asleep and then he runs away. he arrives at the airport, but he has no idea where to go. he gets on a plane to russia. he cries and sleeps all the way there; the passengers watch him and wonder who this sad, beautiful man is. yuuri arrives in st petersburg and he has no idea what to do so he does what he always does when he’s nervous: he goes to the rink.

victor’s rink.

and victor isn’t there, yuuri knows that victor isn’t there, but he sees the empty ice and still gets this sharp pain in his chest. he’s standing there, poorly dressed for russian weather, holding his ratty suitcase full of ice skating equipment, alone in a foreign country, wondering whether he has the courage to turn on his phone and see if victor’s tried to call him.

one of the rink staff sees him. she comes over, tries to talk to him in okay english. “victor?” she asks. “yes,” yuuri says. the answer will always be yes.

she hands him some keys and prints him a map. he doesn’t know what it happening until he realizes the keys have a tiny poodle keychain attached to them.

so he goes to victor’s apartment. it’s lonely there, too quiet, too obviously a place where victor was unhappy. yuuri tries not to touch anything and feels a vague sense of shame and a hot rush of curiosity and he’s so tired and suddenly he’s in victor’s bedroom. the sheets are, like, a thousand count. the mattress is soft. he flops down and thinks, _maybe when i wake up victor will here and i’ll beg him to let me stay in st petersburg and go on not-dates with him on his rest days, if he has time, which he probably won’t._

when yuuri wakes up victor is not there. but yuuri misses him and he turns on his phone and he has like twenty missed calls because he left barcelona like a thief in the night and didn’t tell anyone where he was going. but none of them are from victor.

yuuri’s still staring at his phone in despair when victor calls him.

“hello?”

“yuuri, where are you,” victor says, angrily.

“i…” yuuri decides not to lie. “i’m in st petersburg.”

“what,” victor says.

“um, the lady at the rink gave me your keys, i’m sorry. but i’ll leave right now, i swear –”

“why are you in russia?”

“because—”

“i came all the way to japan to see you and you aren’t even here? why would you go to russia? all the russians you know are still in spain!”

victor is upset. yuuri’s stomach turns over. he’s fucked up.

then his brain finishes processing what victor actually said.

“…you went back to japan?” yuuri asks. “for me?”

“for you,” victor says, and he doesn’t sound upset anymore. he kind of sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “while you went to russia…for me, i hope.”

“i might be lying in your bed right now.”

“oh. i forgive you for leaving me in barcelona all by myself, then.” victor’s voice is a little muffled now, and there’s background noise, like he’s moving around. or rearranging. or packing.

yuuri’s traitorous heart starts pounding again.

but he can’t let victor just come to russia with everything left unsaid. “victor, i don’t want to keep you away from the things you love.”

“then you should stay right where you are,” victor says, “until i arrive.” he says something yuuri can’t hear, and he clearly hears mari respond what do you mean, he went to russia? you’re here.

“come, maccachin,” victor says. “so, what are you wearing?”


	2. yuuri and the viktor dildo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Yuuri bought bootleg Viktor NIkiforov dildos?
> 
> credit to rcmclachlan:
> 
> “I can’t buy out their entire stock, that’d be unreasonable and insane. But 20 is probably okay. And I’ve got a 30% off code.”

“Yuuri, are these yours?”  
  
Deep in the heart of English literature as he was, a subject no doubt invented solely to torture him, Yuuri didn’t look up, as he answered, “Are what mine?”  
  
“These twenty suspiciously shaped packages addressed to our apartment from a company called…” Phichit clicked his tongue. ”Uh, ‘Celebrity-Dicks-R-Us’?”  
  
There was a silence as Yuuri contemplated hurling himself out of the nearest window and Phichit sniggered. _Calm down,_ Yuuri thought, _we’re only on the second floor, you’ll probably land unhurt and Phichit will make you go to the hospital and the doctors will laugh at you for wasting their time._  
  
“I can explain!”

“Tell me you didn’t buy the Viktor dick.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, face buried in his book. It smells like ink and despair. “I didn’t buy the Viktor dick.”

“Good.”

“I bought twenty of them. They’re limited edition, I can resell them for a profit.”

“Yuuri…”

“I had a coupon code.”

“You realize they’re fakes, right? I really doubt the real Viktor would risk his reputation by letting some shady dildo company sell plastic copies of his dick.”

“I know,” Yuuri says. He lifts his head and watches as Phichit, being an okay friend, refrains from bursting into laughter. “I just…it was three am…I still can’t land the salchow…I’m sorry…”

“Yuuri, you are my best friend and I love you. The next time you feel the urge to buy twenty bootleg Viktor dicks, come to me! We can fight this addiction together!”

“I’m not addicted. Lots of people collect things. You just got another hamster.”

“That’s different! I didn’t move to another country and become a figure skater just because I wanted to get into a hamster’s pants –“

“Phichit!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop. But please hide these somewhere before one of the other skaters comes in and asks questions.”

“Right.”

With Phichit’s help, they carry all the packages upstairs (did Yuuri just make a pun in his head? Oh, god, he needs sleep) and stack them in Yuuri’s closet, between his spare skates and a pile of folded track pants and free university t-shirts. Yuuri doesn’t think he’ll ever have the courage to actually open one (although he just checked eBay and holy shit, he is going to make a hefty profit if he resells) let alone use it. But he takes one off the stack and puts it under the bed, just in case.

+++++

chris: viktor

chris: viktor u cant just send me a link to a website SELLING UR DICK and nothing else

chris: is this real?

chris: can i license my dick?

viktor: yes and yes

viktor: i’ll email u their contact info

chris: how did u even find out about this

viktor: someone made a top ten worst celebrity merchandise list and this was number one

viktor: also it’s probably the easiest money i’ve ever made so

chris: i cant believe i didn’t think of it first but i’ll be sure to outsell u

viktor: really? then it’ll be the first time you’ve ever beaten me at anything

chris: wow fuck u too victor

+++++

“What’s in this box, Yuuri?”

“No idea!”

Viktor shrugs and looks around for the box cutter. It’s lying on the floor beside him. He and Yuuri are almost done unpacking, and once all the boxes are empty, Yuuri will officially living here. With Viktor. In Russia. For at least the rest of the season, and ideally the rest of his life.

Yuuri is so cute; he’d even apologized for having too many boxes like Viktor hadn’t commandeered an entire banquet room in Hasetsu. But all his things have fit into the apartment without any problems, although his wardrobe is a tragedy and Viktor is going to accidentally throw out his cheap, sulfate-laden shampoo as soon as he plausibly can. Everything is perfect.

This particular box apparently went from Detroit to Japan and has been sitting unopened since then, because the shipping label is still intact. Viktor cuts it open and finds a couple pairs of sweatpants, a half-full bottle of lotion, three thick book with complicated English titles, and a black cardboard box from ‘Celebrity-Dicks-R-Us’.

“Oh, Yuuri?” Viktor grins. This is going to be fun. “Can you come in here? I want you to tell me which is better!”

“Which what is better?”

“Which version of my dick, the fake one or the real–“

Yuuri screeches loudly and something crashes loudly to the floor in the other room. Viktor leans back against the box and waits for him to recover, already imagining all the ways he can put this to use. (He owns one as well. The company sent him one for free.)

Maybe he’ll convince Yuuri to model for one, too?


	3. yuuri vs phichit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri vs Phichit: Prank Wars: St. Petersburg Edition.

“…why are all my shirts crop tops now?”

Yuuri freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. Beside him, Phichit quickly shoves a spoonful of soup into his mouth.  
Viktor holds up his t-shirt, or what’s left of it. The bottom has been cut off, and now the ragged edge of the shirt is only long enough to fall mid-chest on him.  
  
“Yuuri, you know that I adore you and would never want to hurt you,” VIktor says slowly, “But if you and Phichit don’t stop accidentally pranking me –”

“I didn’t do it, Phichit did!”

“You guys don’t separate your shirts, how was I supposed to tell?”

“You painted my lavender soap with clear nail polish,” Viktor says. “You replaced my shower gel with lube. You tried to feed me an onion dipped in caramel.”

“I was trying to prank Yuuri!”

“Those onions were for Phichit!”

“That soap was imported!” Viktor buries his face in his hands. “Yuuri. Don’t you love me?”

“Yes…?”

“Then why are you doing this to me? I’m going to have stress acne.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Good.” Viktor sighs. “Yakov is going to kill me tomorrow when he sees what I’m wearing. He’s worried I’m giving Yura ideas.” He leaves the kitchen, ruined shirt in hand.  
  
Yuuri and Phichit exchange relieved glances.  
  
“Should we stop?”

“Well, if you wanna give up, Yuuri…”

Yuuri scowls. “Never. I’m going to get you.”  
  
They finish eating, and pile their dishes in the sink.  
  
“Wanna go for a walk? There’s a good view not far from here.”

“Sure, just let me get my coat.”

Phichit ducks into the guest room (which is normally Maccachin’s room). Yuuri puts on his own coat, and a scarf and gloves. He hears a screech.  
  
“My phone! My phone is broken!” Phichit thrusts his beloved Samsung, screen covered in a web of cracks, at Yuuri’s face. “How could this have happened?”

Yuuri takes the phone from him and runs his finger over the screen. It’s perfectly smooth.  
  
“My selfies,” Phichit is moaning.

“Uh, Phichit?” Yuuri holds up the phone, now crack free. “It’s just a cracked screen protector someone put on under your phone case.”

“What?” Phichit snatches the phone back. “You got me good, Yuuri.”

Yuuri blinks. “What? I didn’t do this.”  
  
They stare at each other.  
  
“…Viktor?”


	4. the real viktor nikiforov wouldn't treat me like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> credit to tecochet:
> 
> when Yuuri was dating other people before Viktor, he would constantly say “Viktor Nikiforov wouldn’t treat me this way”

1\. Yuuri goes on his first date in Detroit. He’s taking an East Asian Studies course because he needs an elective, and the boy sitting beside him in class is also an international student from Japan. He has dark eyes and long hair and he takes Yuuri on three dinner dates, looking increasingly frustrated after each one, before he finally asks Yuuri pointedly if he’s going to kiss him.

Until that point, Yuuri hadn’t actually realized they were dating. He lets himself be kissed, but the irritation doesn’t fade until late in the evening. Yuuri stares at the framed photograph of Viktor Nikiforov on his desk, and thinks, _I bet Viktor is nice to his dates. I bet he doesn’t ask them to kiss him the same way my TA asks for people’s cell phones during tests when she catches them cheating._

He ghosts his so-called boyfriend, who gets the hint when Yuuri starts studying alone at odd hours to avoid their old carrel.

 

2\. Her name is Susan, and she’s one year older than he is. Her hair is fiery red, her lipstick is a cool-toned green, and she talks to Yuuri about the metagame changes since the newest Pokemon came out for a full half hour before she casually asks if he wants to fuck.

Yuuri nearly dies right then and there from aspirating his beer, but he says yes.

He’s nervous, and it shows; he starts slow and ends quickly. She laughs at him, makes a racial joke that Yuuri doesn’t quite understand, and it stings; then she suggests he return the favor.

 _I bet Viktor Nikiforov doesn’t laugh at people he’s trying to fuck,_ Yuuri thinks, and he shakes his head and leaves.

He gets better at sex with practice, but he tries very hard not to make anyone feel like he’s laughing at them in bed.

 

3\. Yuuri dates a hockey player who shares the rink with him for four months, mostly because he’s the only person to have asked him out in the past three years.

(”Yuuri, people hit on you all the time,” Phichit says.

Yuuri frowns. “No, they don’t,” he says.

Phichit thumps his head against the back of the couch and sighs.)

The hockey player, in truth, isn’t exactly Yuuri’s type, but he’s confident and he doesn’t mind that Yuuri never says anything in response to his monologues and he tells Yuuri his skating is “kind of hot” which is a novelty. Yuuri’s rinkmates never say anything bad about his skating, and Yuuri’s few college friends are nice enough if they happen to see one of his competitions, but no one’s ever thought of Yuuri’s skating as sexy before.

Their dates are mostly Yuuri standing in the background at hockey team social events and late night dinners after practice, Yuuri counting carbs while his boyfriend eats everything in sight.

One day Yuuri works up the courage to correct his mispronunciation of ‘Katsuki’.

“The ‘u’ is silent,” Yuuri explains.

“Geez, why are you Chinese people so friggin’ offended all the time?”

Yuuri blinks at him and then breaks up with him via text the next day. He’s heard Viktor Nikiforov speak halting Japanese at press conferences at the NHK Trophy; he always makes an effort to pronounce everything correctly.

 

4\. “You know, Yuuri,” Viktor says, once they’re on the plane and Yuuri can’t escape, “you never did tell me about your past lovers.”

Yuuri wonders if Viktor upgraded them to first class purely in an attempt to bribe Yuuri into having this conversation with him.

“There’s not much to tell.” Yuuri lets his head drop onto Viktor’s shoulder. He’s so tired. Viktor is so warm.

“There must be something. Your face was amazing when I asked. I thought you were going to run away.” Viktor’s arm slips over his shoulders. “Besides, I want to know about my competition.”

Yuuri feels his face heat. “There’s no competition,” he mumbles. “I’ve been comparing everyone I dated to you in my head my entire life.”

Viktor doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Yuuri cringes inwardly—why is he like this—and starts to pull away.

“And do I measure up to myself?”

“No,” Yuuri says, relieved. He slumps back against Viktor’s body. “You’re better than anything I could have imagined.”

“Good,” Viktor says. His mouth brushes the top of Yuuri’s head. “Go to sleep, Yuuri.”

Yuuri does as he says. He closes his eyes and lets Viktor take care of him all the way home.


	5. yakov/lilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakov and Lilia, before.

She is the most beautiful person Yakov has ever seen, and the most frightening.  
  
He couldn’t afford a good seat for her performance; he could barely afford a bad one. Yakov has two sisters to support and an elderly father who needs medicine and coaching fees and equipment fees and rink fees. He goes through money like water through a sieve.  
  
But Lilia. Her back is straight, her nose sharp, her mouth always set like she’s judging him. Does she laugh when she’s alone? Is it a giggle, or a snort, or a full blown howl? Who is she, really?  
  
Yakov desperately wants to crack her open, and nothing he does seems to impress her. So here he is. Scrambling out of his cheap seat in the theatre, bouquet in hand. One of the understudies promised to let him in to give it to her in person.  
  
He stands there in the back of the theatre, dancers and staff rushing around him, and waits.  
  
He tries very hard not to think about the fact Lilia can probably put both ankles behind her head.

“Yakov.” She appears like a sudden fog: Yakov can’t see anything, has no idea what he’s doing.

“L-Lilia.” He thrusts the bouquet at her. She accepts it without frowning (more). “You were…” He searches for the right compliment. “Transcendent.”

She lifts both eyebrows. He shrinks under her hawk-eyed gaze. She is so delicate onstage, so powerful here in her dressing gown. She has more facets than a diamond. _What a woman,_ Yakov thinks.

“You may escort me to dinner tomorrow,” she says, finally. “Come by the studio at eight.”

 _I’m on a diet,_ Yakov doesn’t say. _I’m supposed to be practicing until ten,_ Yakov doesn’t say.

What he does say is, “Yes, Lilia.”

(In thirty years, he will look back at this moment as an omen of what was to come. But young Yakov still has hair and optimism. He stops and does an ugly but triumphant spin in the snow on his way home.)


	6. coffeeshop stripper yuuri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dadvans:  
> THE ONLY COFFEE SHOP AU I WILL ACCEPT: yuuri katsuki works at a drive-thru stripper barista and donut shop called THE FEMALE GLAZE where victor is a regular customer who tips in twenty dollar bills and gladly chokes down the lukewarm sludge yuuri tries to pass as coffee because he’s In Love

“Yuuri, what are you doing.”

Phichit loves Yuuri. He does. And not just because Yuuri is a constant source of entertainment. Yuuri is kind and has a savage streak and once helped Phichit illegally smuggle his hamsters onto an airplane by putting them in his pants. 

But how, Phichit thinks, how, how can Yuuri have worked at The Female Glaze for six weeks and still not know how to make lattes? Not even _good_ lattes. Phichit has accepted not everyone will have his prowess at coffee-making. Their clientele is mostly college students with low caffeine levels and people with a lot of unexpressed sexual lust, it’s not like most of them can tell the difference. But Yuuri can’t even make _okay_ lattes. Who is he.

Yuuri, wearing an apron over his regulation booty shorts as per OSHA standards, stares guiltily down into the mug he’s just filled. “…I’m making Viktor’s latte.”

 _Speaking of unexpressed sexual lust,_ Phichit thinks, _Viktor is back._

Viktor is Russian, and beautiful, and very gay, and cannot be passing any of his classes because he comes to The Female Glaze everyday and he spends at least an hour there, not looking at his computer and absolutely looking at Yuuri. Not even just at his ass. Phichit sometimes has to check out Yuuri’s ass, because, damn. But, Viktor is, like, swooning over his eyes and his glasses and the way he says “Your order is ready,” as he hands over Viktor’s drink.

“Never mind. Go give it to him.”

Yuuri strips off the apron, revealing frankly ridiculous…everything, and takes the latte on a tray with a complimentary muffin over to Viktor, who is watching them avidly. 

Phichit doesn’t care if Yuuri gives Viktor shitty coffee. The only thing Viktor is thirsty for is Yuuri’s fine body, and also he tips with twenty dollar bills, which is why Phichit doesn’t cut the cost of all those free pastries Yuuri slides him out of Yuuri’s salary.

Viktor is taking the mug and muffin out off the tray. 

“Thank you,” he says. “How are you, Yuuri? Isn’t it a wonderful day?”

“No,” Yuuri says. He has finals. “I mean, yes. Right. Great day.”

“I bet Makkachin will love it,” Viktor says, and then blushes.

“Who is Makkachin?”

“My poodle.”

“You have a poodle?” Yuuri’s face lights up.

Phichit lets out a silent prayer to the heavens. Finally, Viktor has said something that will actually get him into Yuuri’s pants. Thank god. Now Yuuri can get back to luring in customers by cleaning the windows in a speedo and Phichit can go back to coffee shop dominance.

“Yuuri!” One of their other regulars trills. “I spilled my tea again, do you mind?”

“Please bring your dog tomorrow,” Yuuri says to Viktor. He grabs the mop from behind the counter and starts cleaning up the tea. Things get spilled a lot in The Female Glaze, probably because of Yuuri’s biceps.

Viktor looks like he’s died and ascended to heaven. Right until he actually takes a sip of his coffee, at which point he makes a face like the coffee insulted his mother. He stares down into the mug, and then meets Phichit’s eyes.

Phichit raises his eyebrows.

Viktor sighs and keeps drinking.


	7. they're drunk and sappy and in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this ask on tumblr:  
> ["I wish you would write a fic in which... 1) viktor and yuuri grow up as childhood friends in whatever au exists 2) yuuri and viktor are very, very, drunk together leaking sap, 3) the day comes that viktor finds his first gray (not blonde! not silver!) hair 4) you spoil us with more wonderful regency fic."](http://pencilwalla.tumblr.com/post/177945624596/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-in-which-1-viktor)

“Yuuuuri,” Viktor says. He tries to put down the bottle and misses. It falls, empty, onto the floor. “It’s an emergency.”

“Your dick isn’t an emergency,” Yuuri, three bottles deep and only vaguely aware of his own body, says. “We…talked about this. We talked. Wow.” He stares at Viktor, whose nose is suddenly fascinating. “Your face.”

“No, not my face. My hair.”

“Don’t cry!” Yuuri pats the top of Viktor’s head with both hands. “See, your hair is still there!”

“It’s gray!”

“Eh?”

“I have a gray hair. I’m decrep–decapi– _old.”_

Viktor flops dramatically on top of Yuuri, or at least he tries to. He ends up jammed awkwardly against Yuuri’s shoulder until Yuuri picks him up and rearranges him so that Viktor’s lying on top of him, head on Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri examines the top of Viktor’s head, though he’s taken off his glasses, and keeps getting distracted.

“Mm.” Yuuri plays with a strand. “Your hair is shiny.”

“Don’t divorce me when I’m old, Yuuri! I’ll do the dishes every night from now on!”

“Really?”

“No.”

“I’ll put sunscreen on your head when you’re old, Vitya.”

“Promise?” Viktor sniffs. He hides his face in Yuuri’s shoulder, which has the effect of displaying the thinning spot on top of his head. Yuuri wisely pretends not to see it.

“Promise,” Yuuri says seriously. He ruffles Viktor’s hair. There are at least three gray ones. He kisses every one. “Forever, okay?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to this tumblr ask:
> 
>  
> 
> [I wish you would write a fic where Viktor finally musters up the courage to confess his very secret and shameful vampire kink to Yuuri... who happens to awkwardly stand there, tonguing his retractable fangs and wishing he weren't such a cliche. Are his teeth vestigial traits, or does he actually enjoy drinking blood (idk, optional, it'd be hilarious either way)?](http://pencilwalla.tumblr.com/post/178027833706/i-wish-you-would-write-a-fic-where-viktor-finally)

“He has a vampire kink.”

“And…?”

“He thinks bloodsucking is  _sexy!”_ Yuuri licks his fangs without thinking and then hurriedly retracts them. He is in public. He cannot afford to attract the attention of any Russian vampire hunters. Viktor will be pissed if Yuuri messes up their practice schedule because he’s covering up a crime.

“So?  _You_  think bloodsucking is sexy. It’s a sex metaphor. Everyone knows that!”

“That’s a hematophagophobic stereotype!”

Yuuri can hear Phichit rolling his eyes. Not literally–Yuuri’s hearing isn’t that good–but still.  _This is why vampires hate werewolves,_  he thinks.  _Because they’re dicks._ What does Phichit even know?  _He’s_  never had to awkwardly smuggle a backpack full of questionably sourced blood substitutes through Russian customs.  _He_  just has to eat a little raw meat once in a while. He doesn’t know Yuuri’s life.

“I mean, can’t you just explain to him that you’re not that kind of vampire? More Carlisle Cullen than Count Dracula?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You’re a philistine.”

“Do you think he’ll break up with me if I tell him I’m a vampire?”

“Viktor could walk in on you sucking his mother’s blood and he’d still be down to fuck you, I promise. He totally wants to be your Lucy.”

“I hope it rains during the next full moon. I hope you  _eat a squirrel.”_

“Our friendship is canceled.”

“And I don’t suck people’s blood! I don’t suck anything!” Mostly. Yuuri’s choosing not to include all the blowjobs. And the hickies. And all the–Yuuri’s choosing not to include any sex acts he may or may not have performed. It’s not like Phichit doesn’t know. He’s  _seen_  things. “I use a mug!”

“Wait, you’re drinking mugs of blood and Viktor hasn’t noticed?”

“…yes?”

“How sure are you that he actually has a vampire kink and he’s not just trying to get you to come out of the coffin?”

“I can’t think about that, I’ll die,” Yuuri says blandly.

“Undead beings don’t die,” Phichit replies. “They  _shrivel._  Like old mushrooms.”

“I’m hanging up, fleabag.”

“Back at you, rice counter.”

“That’s also a myth,” Yuuri says, but it’s too late, Phichit’s hung up. “I’m not going to suck his blood. I’m fine.”

Even if Viktor does have a nice neck–swan-like, like he’s the protagonist of an indie paranormal romance–and smells good and has clear, unobstructed veins so blue they bring out his eyes and he lies there in bed with his throat exposed like he’s helpless, like he’s prey–

“Nope. Not gonna do it.” Yuuri pulls the bottle of red Gatorade that is not actually Gatorade out of his bag. He gulps it down. It’s cold and unsatisfying, unlike Viktor’s warm, pulsing, perfect–“I’m _fine!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me at on tumblr at [pencilwalla](pencilwalla.tumblr.com)! I'm getting close to 500 subscribers on ao3 and when that happens I will do something for my readers :)


	9. Chapter 9

“Viktor?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you wear any of these?”

Viktor frowns. He is halfway through making a pile of Yuuri’s rattiest shirts which Yuuri will then insist are fine and refuse to throw away. He regrets agreeing to sort through each other’s clothes in preparation for them living in an apartment that has never housed more than one man and his dog. He can’t help but wonder if Yuuri will think the contents of Viktor’s closet are excessive.

“Any of what?”

Yuuri holds up a pile of shirts in a rainbow of colors, everything from pastels to jewel tones. “You have three drawers like this.”

“Those are new.”

“Yeah? I’ve never seen you wear anything besides exercise clothes and this rack of stuff here.” Yuuri gestures at the things Viktor does wear, most of which are neutrals. They’re tailored, high quality pieces that Viktor takes care of and rarely has to replace. Until Yuuri, who has an incredible number of tshirts that he claims were given to him for free in college with holes in them

“I wear them.”

“I’ve seen you wear three of these shirts and that was three years ago. On Instagram. Between Russian Nationals and Euro.”

“How do you remember that?”

“Do you not like them?”

“I…” Viktor hesitates. He does like them. Viktor doesn’t keep clothing he dislikes. He bought some of those. “I like them.”

Yuuri looks suspiciously at him. Then he puts the stack of shirts back into the drawer and sits down beside Viktor on the floor. He gently pulls the shirt Viktor is the process of folding from his hands.

“Are you sad?”

“No.” Viktor thinks maybe that’s a lie, but it doesn’t have anything to do with his clothes. That will be a conversation for another time. (A part of Viktor is amazed that he can envision a conversation with Yuuri about that–about a feeling he’s never discussed with anyone) “It’s easier. I used to dress more…flamboyantly. But after I started my winning streak, I got more attention than I ever had before. Everything I wear and did on the ice was already being scrutinized, but suddenly people were analyzing what I was wearing off the ice as well. It was exhausting, trying to fulfill this image I’d accidentally created, so I started toning it down. It’s easier to be put together when all your clothes match.”

“Oh.” Yuuri picks his his hand and squeezes it. “Should we just leave them, then?”

“It seems like a waste. Especially when we have to store your five hundred thousand worn out tshirts.”

“Tell you what,” Yuuri says. “You hang some of those shirts up, I’ll throw out some of my old tshirts.”

Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s hand. “I might not ever wear them.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”


	10. Chapter 10

[Viktor and Chris are in what looks like Chris’s living room. Chris is sitting in an armchair; Viktor is lying on the sofa with his head on the arm. They both have a glass of wine in hand. An open bottle is sitting on the table in front of them.

Chris reaches out and pokes Viktor on the head.

“Truth or dare?”

“Hmm.” Viktor says. He drinks from his glass. “Truth.”

“Grand Prix Finalists this year, hottest to not-est.”

“Men singles skaters only?’

“Exactly.”

“Including myself?”

“No.”

“Do I go high to low or low to high?”

“Low to high, I think. Best to get it over with.”

“Mm.” Viktor drinks from his glass again until it’s empty. He holds it out, and Chris refills it. “All right. Number six, Michele Crispino.”

“Why?” Chris asks. “I mean, obviously, we’ve met Michele, but for the benefit of the viewers–”

“He’s convinced I’m secretly interested in his sister.” Viktor rolls his eyes. Chris snorts. “Number five…Leroy.”

“Leroy? Really?”

“He’s, what, twelve?”

“He’s twenty.”

“He’s twelve. And he’s only ranked above Michele because Yuri hates him, so he must be doing something right. Number four, Cao Bin, because of his eyebrows.”

“His eyebrows?” Chris gestures and wine splashes onto his hand. He licks it off.

“He needs to draw them in.”

“I’m shocked that you’re still single, Viktor.”

“Someday my prince will come. Number three, you, because you’re the only person on this list I can confirm is actually good in bed.”

“Thank you.”

“Number two is of course me.” Viktor runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m pretty.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t rank yourself.”

“You agreed to that. All right, last but definitely not least, number one: Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Katsuki?”

“Have you seen him? Have you seen his face?” Viktor nearly spills the wine on himself. “His bone structure. His eyebrows. His hands. His thighs.”

“That escalated quickly.”

“He could bench press me and I would thank him.”

“We’re still on camera.”

“I would lick borscht off his abs and if you see this, Katsuki, feel free to call me, I’m available.”

“I’m actually going to give him your number now.”]

75,049 likes

 **c-giacometti** @v-nikiforov and i off the ice. thanks to @chateaupetrus for the wine. (@katsuki-y, check your messages.)

**View all 9,395 comments**

**grobsjo** @katsuki-y but did you call him??   
**catfishcary** i would also lick borscht off yuuri’s abs and i’m deathly allergic to beetroot   
**v-nikiforov** @catfishcary some things are worth dying for   
**v-nikiforov** @grobsjo he did

**Author's Note:**

> comments are love, comments are life


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